Reason
by Runaway Wordette
Summary: He was her reason, and she was his. Understanding was all they had ever needed.


**I love this pairing. It frustrates me that the only stories for them are about a dysfunctional relationship where Fiora is some miserable display doll and Eliwood is some jackass obsessed with paperwork. (No offense to anyone who wrote those stories, I'm just ranting here. They were incredibly well written.) I tried to write a small piece about how they fell for each other but I think it turned out more as a confusing pity session. Tell me what YOU wonderful people think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.**

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She really didn't know who she was anymore. It wasn't as if she could define herself as person, rather she saw herself more as a monster. She would look at her pale, slender hands and stare at them. She'd imagine them covered in a bright crimson, the thick sparkling liquid dripping off the ends of her fingers and sliding between the crevices of her calloused hands. Each little drop held so much color and purpose- just like they had.

She couldn't think about things she enjoyed. She couldn't remember how it felt to tilt a side of her lips up into a smile, or how she had used to spin around in endless circles when it had snowed. She couldn't remember what it felt like to stare up at the grey mottled sky and feel little icy flakes on her face like small kisses from her long lost parents. She had forgotten the feeling that spread through her body like warm liquid when she learned how to do a new particularly difficult pass with her lance or a new maneuver that astonished those on the ground. She forgot what it felt like to enjoy the way the wind pulled her hair behind her when she flew, she couldn't remember the feeling of beautiful awe when she looked down at the world splayed out beneath her as she counted the snow covered pine trees. She had felt as if she could fly anywhere, do anything.

Her eyes feel vacant, empty. Empty isn't so much a thing as it is a feeling. She can feel the hollowness inside her, a gap where something had used to be. Was it where her strength had been? Her self-confidence? She didn't even know anymore, all she knew was that the gap was expanding, eating more and more of her. And she didn't mind.

Why should she mind? A monster such as her had no reason to enjoy anything. No reason to feel anything but horror for what she had done. Nothing but revulsion for something as disgusting and terrible as herself. She was a blot in the skies, no longer a free spirit that rode the wind, but a monster that held a lance.

All she could see was their faces. All thirty of them, staring with large eyes, hair flying and whipping behind them wildly as they flew to their demise. Young faces untainted by the leathery fingers of age. Blossoms of youth with fire in their eyes and determination in their hearts. Full of hopes, dreams, full of imagined adventures and feats of glory to tell their families when they returned.

They had fallen like snowflakes. How fitting it would be that even in their deaths and even in their parting they held on to that bit of home. The white glow of their steeds against the inky black night was striking as they writhed and twisted as if in some beautiful dance. Screams and whinnies filled the air like a companion to the dance, thickening and turning into a fog that got caught in your throat. A pretty smattering of sparkling droplets against the surface of the water where the impact had been, then they were gone. Gone from the world, faces never to be seen again, and voices never to be heard. Their beings erased from all existence in the dark night, and all she could do was watch as they fell, hating that she couldn't fall with them, damning her own skill that kept her in the frigid air she couldn't breathe.

She hated that she had survived, for hadn't they been people? Hadn't they been angels on their steeds, fighting in the face of adversity while she was nothing more than a black-hearted fiend? Yet she had survived, twirling her silvery lance in the moonlight because she was skilled. But not skilled enough to save them.

She likes to sit by herself a ways away from the camp. She isn't fit to breathe the same air as the heroes when she is nothing more than a beast. She doesn't notice the way her small sister stares after the slender form by itself, wringing her small hands. She doesn't notice the way the green knight watches her with an uncharacteristically solemn look in his eyes and how he tries ever so hard to bring a smile to her face once again. She doesn't notice the way the red knight so like herself stares at her empty face, knowing how she must ache on the inside but not knowing how to make it any better.

But she notices him. A kind face, an honest face that looks at her with concern in his pure eyes. Never condemning her, never judging her. She feels his presence, it's warm and it gives a sense of security when he's near. He seeks her out and she listens to the comforting rise and fall of his deep voice when he speaks with her. It's like a soothing melody, like the gentle patter of rain. He calls her an equal and tells her that he wants to protect her. She hears her own voice too, soft but stronger than she feels. He smiles when he hears her pretty voice with the sing-song Ilian accent with the lilt that's all her own and he feels the ache in her sad blue eyes. War is where people come to die and he knows that she has done nothing wrong. He tells her so. Didn't her knights know they could die when they left the safety of their homes? Didn't they know how their stories could end? Doesn't she know that if she dwells on it, she'll lose herself along with them? He knew the pain, being the leader of the troops, leading them to their deaths, although for some reason it looked so much worse on her stunning face.

He finds her presence comforting as well. He feels her skill when she fights and her compassion when she speaks of the ones she loves. He enjoys seeing the faraway look in her sapphire eyes when she speaks of her glistening white home with fragile white petals and open blue skies. He watches as she slowly begins to smile more, a soft curve of her lips upwards when he sits beside her. He likes the way her words are pure and honest, with no motive other than her determination and fire. He likes the way she gives her all to defend others when she fights, the way she trains to better herself for the good of others. Her compassion, gentleness and fierceness combined make her a new person to him. She is different from all other people he's ever met. Unique and beautiful and he feels himself falling for her.

She basks in the warm glow his presence brings and slowly she begins to feel herself heal. She feels once again the exhilaration of soaring above the earth, the strength in her arms when she wields her lance; he reminds her once again why she is fighting. She promises herself that she will defend him. She feels her spirit come back to her and she realizes that her snowflake knights wouldn't want her to leave along with them. They would want her to fight for them, to make them proud and to serve their memory well. She promises never to forget, but not to let the memory haunt her.

The two become used to each other's company, the constant assurance of being by each other's side. The support and encouraging words, the gentle touches when everything seems like it is all too much. The feeling of having someone you trust, who knows your every fault and weakness and stays by your side through thick and thin.

She may have been a knight and he may have been a lord, but no one could help but agree that two people had never been more suited for each other. He had healed her, and she in return had given him reason to continue through the darkness that surrounded their group and mission. And when he asked her to stay with him, she promised forever and always.


End file.
